


this is just to say

by mambo



Series: Bucky Barnes: Former Disney Channel Star [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actors, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Bucky Barnes As A Former Disney Channel Star, Hollywood, M/M, discussion of past rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5105933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambo/pseuds/mambo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of extras from the universe of it's a strange courage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asset

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about writing one big sequel to it's a strange courage, but I never did have a plot. But I have quite a bit of writing from the universe that's just been sitting on my computer, so rather than writing some big sequel, I'm just putting out short stories that're related. I hope you enjoy.

I have eaten  
the plums  
that were in  
the icebox  
  
and which  
you were probably  
saving  
for breakfast  
  
Forgive me  
they were delicious  
so sweet  
and so cold

 

-“This Is Just To Say” by William Carlos Williams

 

**Barnes and Rogers Adopt Ugly Dog: Is this Rogers’s attempt to punish Barnes for his infidelity? Read more on pg. 7!**

**…**

Steve is pouting.

Now, Bucky has learned that this isn’t an unusual phenomenon. Steve Rogers—despite popular belief—is not a perfect human specimen. While he may appear so at first glance, and he has been scientifically proven to be the closest to society’s unrealistic expectations of physical and emotional perfection, he _isn’t_. It is perplexing, but also great, since otherwise Bucky would have even more of a complex about the fact that out of all the people in the whole goddamned universe, Steve Rogers keeps choosing to come home to Bucky every night. But he’s not perfect, and he’s expressing it at this very moment like a goddamn revelation.

“I ain’t gonna start wakin’ up at the crack of dawn, Steve.”

“Running is good for you.”

“So’re kale smoothies but you don’t see me findin’ the blender and stuffin’ green shit into it.”

Steve sighs. “The blender is in the upper left-hand cabinet, Buck.”

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “You’re not gonna start makin’ kale smoothies, are ya? Because if you’re—“

“No Buck, I’m not a masochist.” He pauses and his grin is just plain evil. “Even if I am dating you.”

“Low blow, Rogers.” Bucky takes a long sip of coffee. “Still not goin’ running with you.”

Something gleams in Steve’s eye and, oh. Bucky’s walked straight into a trap. Here’s another issue with would-be-perfect Steven Grant Rogers: he’s a little sneak. Sure, that head of golden hair may make you think otherwise, but he’s got a smart, tricky side that almost always gets the best of Bucky. “Then maybe,” he says, all feigned casualness, since Bucky is the actor in this relationship, “we should get something that would.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow. “What’re you gettin’ at, Rogers?”

Steve takes a sip of his cappuccino—made with the machine that Steve had hauled halfway across town when he had moved into Bucky’s apartment, which just seemed ridiculous at the time, but now feels like a blessing each morning—and leans back in his chair. “A dog.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “We should adopt one.”

“To go runnin’ with you? Because if you want someone to go runnin’ with you, I bet Sam’d do it.”

Steve purses his lips. “Not just running.” He glances down at the edge of the table, then back up at Bucky. “I always wanted a dog. But it was too much of a risk, with my asthma. And it gets lonely here, when you’re off filming. It’d be nice to have someone to come home to.”

Of course Bucky’s going to say yes, now that he’s heard Steve say that. There’s no way he _can’t_ say yes because, in reality, Steve asks for very little. Plus Bucky has this soft spot a mile-long for the tiny, asthmatic Steve Rogers that he never got to know but whose life he made a difference in. There may be a picture of him as his phone background, which he makes sure to never, ever show Steve. Or Sam. Or Natasha. Especially Natasha.

But like hell is Bucky just gonna hand it over. He’s got his pride, okay?

“I dunno, Steve. What would you do when I’m not around?”

Steve looks like he’s really resisting the urge to roll his eyes. It’s perfect. “I’d take care of him, Buck.”

“Would you walk him?”

“Yes.”

“Feed him?”

“Of course, Bucky, I’m not—“

Bucky raises a hand, which silences Steve. “Do you promise to pet him and love him and—“

Steve kicks his shin hard underneath the table. Bucky swears and tries to kick him back, but Steve swings his legs out of the way before there’s any sort of impact. Those God damn bodyguard skills are always thwarting Bucky. 

“When’re we going to the shelter?” Steve asks, smug.

Bucky sighs. “You busy this afternoon?”

**…**

In the year since Bucky announced his and Steve’s relationship, Steve’s been promoted, Bucky was shoved into the bushes by a paparazzi, Sam and Natasha stared dating, Clint got a girlfriend, lost his girlfriend, and spent one very memorable night trying to break into Bucky’s apartment out of grief, Steve and Bucky moved in together (just in case Clint tries to get back in when Bucky’s gone for a month, filming in Georgia, like he was last time), and Bucky was nominated for and lost an Oscar. But he got to hold Steve’s hand while all of it was happening, so none of it seemed to matter all that much.

(Except the whole moving in part, because that meant that Bucky gets to see Steve _all the time_ , like in the mornings and afternoons and evenings and sure, Bucky goes to film stuff a lot and Steve sometimes doesn’t get home from the animation studio until three in the morning, but it’s _worth it_. _Especially_ when Steve comes home at three in the morning, hyped up from drinking too much Mountain Dew and wanting a blow job to calm down.)

So yeah. One year later, and things are still going okay.

**…**

They take Bucky’s Lexus up to a nearby shelter, since Steve got mildly offended when Bucky got the phone number of a dachshund breeder. “C’mon Steve, you see that English cream? Looks exactly like you, with its nubby little legs and floppy lil’ ears!”

“I’m not paying $800 for a dog that can barely keep up with me when I’m walking, let alone running.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother to start with the money thing. They’ll just fight about it again.

(It’s not Bucky’s fault that he has a lot of money and has nothing better to do with it than spend it on Steve, okay?)

“Then what about a golden retriever? You could—“

“Buck, you don’t seriously think that I’m going to go to a breeder when my boyfriend was adopted, right?”

Bucky takes a sharp intake of breath, and twenty minutes later they’re walking into this shelter.

“Can I help you?” asks the bored-looking girl at the front desk as she types something into an older-looking desktop computer. She’s got dark, curly hair and an athletic build, and is wearing an American flag windbreaker, even indoors. 

“Yeah, we’re here to look at dogs,” Steve says. She glances up, then at the screen, then back up.

Steve wraps an arm around Buck’s waist and pulls him in close. “The dogs?” he asks again.

The girl physically shakes herself out of staring at Bucky and says, “Yeah, over this way.” She stands up and gestures for them to follow her down a nearby hallway. There are medium-sized silver cages, about two feet by two feet against each wall, stacked two high. Each contains a cat. Most seem dreadfully unhappy, laying in fluffy piles and staring at Steve and Bucky skeptically. Bucky inches closer to Steve because yeah, there aren’t too many similarities between this and the New York State Office of Children and Family Services, but Steve’s already put that idea in his head and Bucky can’t quite shake it.

“How long’ve you been workin’ here?” Bucky asks to the girl ahead of them as she turns a corner.

“Um… Two months?” she says. “I’m just here before I go back to school.”

“You adopt anythin’ from here?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve got a tarantula in my dorm room.”

Bucky stops asking questions.

They go through another hall of cats—which the girl, whose name is America, tells Steve are the older ones, who can’t play with the younger ones in the playroom—before they get to the kennels. They’re kept in a back room with concrete floors, and it looks almost like a warehouse. Each dog has a five by five foot enclosure. “We rotate ‘em outside during the afternoon, and they each get walked twice a day,” America explains, pausing to pet a yippie little thing that’s missing an eye.

“Can we pet them?” Steve asks.

America shakes her head. “Unless you’re very seriously considering one or two dogs, we’d prefer that you keep your hands away. Liability, y’know?” Steve nods and Bucky’s heart breaks a little. “Anyway, if you have any questions, let me know.”

Steve thanks her and says to Bucky, “Just keep an open mind, okay?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “I always keep an open mind.”

Steve pinches his side, Bucky yelps and America says, “Please don’t do anything that could startle the dogs. Some of them come from home where they weren’t treated so well, if you get what I mean.”

Steve looks at America, then down to a three-legged mutt. The mutt looks up at Bucky with hazel eyes and wags its stubby tail, lets its pink tongue out of its mouth. It was a mistake coming here. Bucky is going to adopt them all.

So he tells Steve, “I wanna adopt them all. How’d you feel about livin’ in a dog sanctuary?” Steve doesn’t respond, just rolls his eyes and presses Bucky closer. “You’re sendin’ me mixed signals here, buddy.”

“Look at the dogs, Buck.”

“Doesn’t matter, ‘cus I’m adoptin’ them—“

“Bucky.” Steve turns around, faces Bucky and puts a hand on each of his shoulders. His face is very serious, which is a silly look on Steve, but Bucky manages to hold back his smile. “I don’t know how this turned into me wanting a dog to you creating a dog sanctuary—“ Bucky can totally tell that Steve’s trying not to smile. Take that, Steve. “—But you and I both know that we cannot take care of six dozen dogs.”

“We could hire—“

“And we’re not hiring someone to do it for us in your one-bedroom apartment.” Bucky can hear America snigger in the background. “One dog.”

Bucky sighs. “Fine.” He tries to make it sound dramatic. And it totally does. He’s an _Academy Award-nominated_ actor.

Steve smiles and presses his lips against Bucky’s temple. “C’mon Buck,” he says. “This place closes at five and I’m sure that you’re going to be a slow customer.”

The truth is that it takes a mere twenty minutes.

He hears Asset before seeing him, as Asset lets out a large, rippling fart as Bucky and Steve admire a particularly shaken-looking Chihuahua. Bucky turns around to the next row of kennels to see a saggy bulldog, staring up at Bucky as if that fart had been a challenge. His eyes are black and he’s got a healing gash on the top of his head, recently taken-out stitches having left him with a small bald patch. Otherwise, he seems healthy, if a bit overweight. He’s mostly a tannish brown color, except his his tummy and head, which are white. He’s got a brown spot right over his right eye, however, and one of his paws is white.

Bucky abandons the shaking Chihuahua and walks over to this dog and kneels down. “Asset?” he asks when he reads the laminated name tag that hangs at the front of his kennel, which also gives some other basic information about him. The dog makes a kind of huffing noise. Unlike the other dogs, who have either excitedly run up wanting love and affection or crawled to the back of their cage, terrified of Steve and Bucky—both equally sad, in Bucky’s eyes—Asset doesn’t move an inch. He sits there, his own fat pooling around him and just stares Bucky down, as if he’s daring him _not_ to adopt him.

“Steve?” Bucky calls. Steve abandons trying to coax the Chihuahua from the corner he’s been hiding in and walks over. “I’ve found our new dog.”

Steve bends down and looks at Asset with a skeptical eye. Asset shifts his weight from one side to the other and then glares at Steve. “Bucky, are you, um, sure?”

“He’s wonderful,” Bucky says, gleeful. Asset looks back at him and he—my god!—wags his stubby tail several times before plopping down on his stomach. “Just perfect, Steve.” Bucky sticks a finger into the bars of Asset’s kennel and wiggles it. Rather than jumping up and playing with it or biting it, Asset just watches it with an unamused expression, as if judging Bucky for his childish behavior.

“He seems kind of… grumpy,” Steve says, struggling for the correct word.

“He seems dignified,” Bucky retorts. “Like… like a czar or somethin’.” Steve chuckles and stands up. “I think I love him,” Bucky says, looking up at Steve with what he hopes are more convincing puppy eyes than any of the other dogs that may have caught Steve’s attention in this place.

Steve rolls his eyes and Bucky knows he’s won.

Bucky looks back at Asset, who has been looking at them with vague disinterest, as if they were a daytime television program playing in a doctor’s waiting room. “Hey buddy,” Bucky says. “You wanna come home with us?”

Asset’s nose twitches. He licks his tongue over his mouth and then, like the cannons at the end of the _1812 Overture_ , lets out another stunning burst of flatulence.

**…**

Asset is three and a half years old and belonged to an eccentric old woman who forgot to do things like feed him. “He’s had a bit of a rough life,” May explains as they fill out the paperwork. Then, “I’ll give you a $100 discount if I can take a picture of you two and the dog to put on our website.”

Steve begins, “I don’t think—“

“Let’s do it,” Bucky says.

May gets a moderately satanic grin as she pulls out her iPhone. “You don’t have to,” Steve says.

Bucky shrugs. “Better than most of the press I get.”

Which is true. In the past few years the amount of vitriol Bucky has endured has bordered on the absurd, with headlines proclaiming his love for Alexander Pierce—which is particularly distasteful to Bucky—to breaking the news that Steve has walked out on Bucky after seeing Bucky shoot-up in their living room. In fact, if the tabloids are to be believed, Bucky and Steve have split up twenty-seven times, each for a new and unique reason, and each time ending in Bucky going through some sort of downward spiral that involved liquor, drugs and strangely enough, loose women.

“Steve’s the bisexual one,” he tries to say, but it falls on unwilling ears. “I only like dick,” usually gets a bit more of a reaction, but still, the endless spirals that end with him snorting cocaine off of some college-age girl’s bare stomach. Not that Bucky’s lost in any illusions, since he still wakes-up every morning to Steve Rogers’s bare ass shining in the sun, but he just wishes that these magazines would show a little creativity every so often.

Like, maybe make Steve be the one who gets dumped. That’d be a nice change.

May brings Asset in the room, and Steve carefully opens the cage. “C’mon boy,” he says, chipper. Asset just looks at him like a lesser being. Steve frowns. Bucky stops filling out paperwork at the desk and goes up to the cage. “He won’t come out,” Steve says, seemingly perplexed by there being a living creature that does not immediately succumb to his big eyes and charming smile.

_Ha_ , Bucky thinks before succumbing to Steve’s big eyes and charming smile (or in this particular case, frown). Bucky wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Let me,” he says gently, pressing a kiss to Steve’s temple. America makes a sort of snorting noise behind them but screw her; she’s probably just jealous that she doesn’t get to kiss Steve Rogers when he’s pouting. Secretly, Bucky likes him best when he’s pouting. Makes him seem more human and less Captain McPerfect Pants. With a perfect ass. Bucky loves Steve a whole shit load.

But he bends down to eye-level with Asset. “Get your lazy butt outta there, y’mutt.”

“Bucky—“ Steve begins admonishingly, but Asset trots on out, stopping next to Bucky’s leg and taking a seat on his foot.

Bucky laughs. “Thatta boy,” he says, patting Asset’s side. Asset lets his stubby tail wag once. Bucky considers it a victory. He pulls Steve over and looks over at May. “So, picture?”

**…**

Of course the tabloids pick it up.

“Bucky Barnes adopts pup with boyfriend. Is this a surefire sign of their sex life dying? We’ve got all the sordid details!”

Bucky lets Asset pee on the magazine.

 


	2. Appendix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes passes out on set. Our experts say it’s cancer; what do you think? Bonus: Boyfriend Rogers is nowhere in sight. Where was Barnes’ hottie when all this was going down?

**Bucky Barnes passes out on set. Our experts say it’s cancer; what do you think? Bonus: Boyfriend Rogers is nowhere in sight. Where was Barnes’ hottie when all this was going down?**

**…**

Just a few short weeks after the adoption, Bucky has to say goodbye to both Asset and Steve—in alphabetical order, and by no means by preference and it’s silly that Steve would mention that at all—to go on a shoot in Atlanta. He worries about Steve, whose nights at the animation studio have gotten longer and longer, since the movie he’s working on is close to wrapping. He’s too apt to forget to do things like eat and sleep (and occasionally bathe). More than once, Bucky’s had to call one of Steve’s coworkers—usually Kate Bishop, who he met through Clint—at 3 in the morning to tell them to tell Steve to come _home_. He’s also worried about Asset, who seems to tolerate Steve but _loves_ Bucky. He doesn’t want Asset to bother Steve. There is no _My Dog From Hell_ ; Jackson Galaxy can only speak to cats. Regrettably. Bucky really wants to meet Jackson Galaxy.

But, this being Bucky Barnes’s life, Asset doesn’t start bullying Steve and Kate gets Steve home on time.But of course, everything goes to shit anyways, just in new and in exciting ways!

But, like, it goes _literally to shit_.

Like, two days into shooting he hasn’t been feeling great. Whatever. It’s muggy in Atlanta and he binged on onion rings the day before shooting started, so he didn’t think much of the cramps and dizziness. He fills and drains his water bottle what feels like a hundred times, but he doesn’t feel better. He spends most of the night on the toilet or next to it, alternating between shitting and puking, sending an occasional text to Steve asking how his day was, oh he’s good, real good, Atlanta’s pretty this time of year, etc. etc.

And on the second day of shooting he passes out.

It’s right in the middle of a big crowd scene, where a bunch of extras grab their cell phones and start snapping pics of Bucky clutching his stomach and writhing on the ground. Luckily Logan—proving himself again to be the meanest Canadian in the world and one of Bucky’s favorite people—steps between Bucky and the crowd and starts glaring at anyone with a phone out.

(A few people still Tweet about it, which he doesn’t realize then but will figure out later.)

“If you’re gonna have your goddamn cell phones out, how about somebody calls an ambulance?” Logan grunts at the crowd.

Someone does, and Bucky gets whisked away.

**…**

It’s appendicitis.

“Which is totally not, like, a sexy way to die,” Bucky bemoans in his ass-less hospital gown. 

“Good thing you’re not dying,” Logan says, arms crossed over his chest and looking resolutely bored.

They’re giving Bucky some kind of something on an IV, which is making him less in pain but his mind is all over the place. He’s not sure how long he’s been in the hospital, or what’s going on in the world outside the walls. He does know, vaguely, that an anesthesiologist will be over soon to make him go to sleep for the surgery.

He’s gonna lose his appendix. He’s thought of worse things that he’s lost, but somehow in his drugged-up daze, he feels almost sad about the piece of him that he won’t have inside of him any longer.

“You think they’ll let me keep it?” Logan grunts. “The appendix, I mean.”

“Why? Are you gonna eat it or something?”

Bucky chuckles. “It’d be a real fun prank. ‘Hey Steve, I got dinner tonight.’ You know he doesn’t even know that I’m here?” Logan isn’t looking at him, but that’s nothing new. “He’s gonna be so miffed. It’ll be so cute.”

There’s a knock on the door. “You ready, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky sighs. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

**…**

Steve is so mad at Bucky. So, _so_ mad at Bucky.

Steve found out that his boyfriend passed out and was carted off to the hospital from _Twitter_. Being uncommunicative with your boyfriend doesn’t really work when you’re an A-list celebrity who people are watching all the time. Logan called him as soon as they got to the hospital, but there’s nothing worse than having the first response come from a bunch of strangers on the Internet. Luckily, Steve was able to bargain his way onto the first plane to Atlanta he could find and made it to the hospital during Bucky’s surgery.

“Mr. Rogers?”

Steve stands up from the uncomfortable waiting room chair he’s been in for the past hour and walks over to the doctor. “How is he?” Steve asks, heart beating fast.

The doctor glances down at his clipboard, then back up at Steve. “He’s fine. Just a standard procedure. No real complications. He’s in recovery now and will be waking up shortly. Would you like to—“

“Yes, if I can.”

The man chuckles. “You look like you haven’t slept in a while, son.”

Steve shrugs. “Hasn’t been a priority.”

“You’ll see for yourself that he’s just fine, if you want to follow me. But, you know, he may be a wee bit out of it when he wakes up. Just be prepared. May be a bit of memory loss, too, but that’s completely normal. He’ll be right as rain in just a few hours.”

Steve braces himself and enters Bucky’s room.

**…**

Bucky opens his eyes and “Wow.”

“Buck, Bucky, are you okay?”

Whoever this is, he’s grabbing Bucky’s hand, looking at him with _ginormous_ blue eyes. “You’re like a pretty golden retriever.” Bucky feels himself smiling, feels so _light_. “Pretty, pretty, pretty.” He doesn’t wanna stop looking at him.

The guy isn’t smiling though even though Bucky wants him to. Really wants him to. He probably looks so nice when he smiles. “Bucky, do you know who I am?” It takes Bucky some effort, but he manages to shake his head. He feels so heavy. The guy’s frown becomes more pronounced, which is a shame because he really is so pretty. “Bucky, it’s me, it’s Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“You should smile then, Steve!”

And he does, for a brief second, before he’s smoothing back Bucky’s hair and wow. That feels nice. He likes this Steve guy, even if he’s got some kinda vendetta against smiling. “How can I smile when you’re all messed-up like this?”

“Me? I’m fine. Fine, fine, fine.” Steve’s hand moves from his hair to the side of Bucky’s face and he nuzzles into it. It’s warm. “Gosh, it’s so nice you’re here.” Bucky lets himself shut his eyes. “I wonder who you are though. I hope you’re nice.”

“Jeez, Bucky.” He pulls his hand away and Bucky whimpers. He puts it right back and Bucky smiles again. “I’m your boyfriend. Remember?”

Bucky’s eyes fly open. “You’re my boyfriend?” Steve is sniggering and it’s pretty cute. But confusing. “Really?” He nods. “Wow,” Bucky says. “Are you sure?”

“We’ve been together for a few years now, Buck. I’m pretty sure.”

“But you’re like, you’re a catch.” Bucky frowns. “What’re you doin’ with a meatball like me? You should date someone real cool. You should date James Bond. Or Batman.” He pauses. “But Batman’s a bit dramatic.”

Steve’s smiling down at him— _finally_ smiling, like really smiling—and Bucky feels like the most important person in the universe. “You’re my favorite meatball. Wouldn’t want to date anybody else.”

“Really?”

“Yeah Buck, really.” He leans over and kisses Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky can feel himself going red and the heart monitor he’s attached to beeps a little quicker. Steve laughs. “C’mon, Steve. You’re so—“ Bucky yawns. “—And I’m not even sure that I know you. But anyone’s gonna be nervous when a guy like you is kissin’ them!”

Steve pulls away, laughing. He looks down at Bucky, fond. “I was so angry with you, Buck, but you’re making it kind of hard for me.”

“You were angry at me?” Bucky asks, worried. Steve nods. “I don’t want you to be angry at me.”

“Can’t help it—“

“Don’t be angry with me,” Bucky begs. He pulls his hand out from under his hospital blanket to grab at Steve’s arm. “I dunno what I did, but I know I really don’t want you to be angry with me.” Steve puts his hand over Bucky’s and squeezes.

“You had me real worried, is all.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re dating me.” Steve shakes his head. “You’re like, a model or somethin’. You a model?” Steve shakes his head. “Really? Because you’re—“ Bucky can’t help it, he yawns. “You’re like the prettiest guy I’ve ever seen. Do I treat you well? Because if I don’t dump me for me. I’ll treat you really well.”

“You treat me really well, Bucky. You just don’t always _think_.” He emphasizes the last word, like it hurts him.

“Don’t be sad, Steve.” He pauses, then has a great idea. “You know what’d make you happy?”

“What’s that, Buck?”

Bucky grins. “Let’s get married. Okay?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but smiles. “Are you tired, Buck?” 

“I’m not gonna lie to you because we’re apparently in a relationship and I wanna marry you and all, so yeah. I’m pretty tired.”

Steve intertwines his fingers with Bucky’s and guides his hand back down to the covers. “You should go back to sleep, Buck.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Why’s that? You uncomfortable?”

Bucky shakes his head. “I don’t wanna wake-up and have you not be there.”

Steve smiles and goes back to pushing Bucky’s hair back. “I promise I’ll be right here, Buck. Nothing’s gonna make me move.”

“But what if you’re just the best fever dream ever?” 

“Not a dream.” He kisses Bucky’s forehead and Bucky feels warm all over. “And I’ll be here. You know that.”

“If you’re lyin’ I’m gonna be real angry when I wake-up,” he says, letting himself shut his eyes.

“Haven’t lied to you before; wouldn’t start now,” he hears as he drifts back asleep.

**…**

When Bucky wakes-up again, Steve’s sitting next to his bed, reading a tabloid whose front cover is of a tired-looking Bucky with the headline, “Bucky Barnes hospitalized! Is it cancer? Read about it on page 16!”

“Spoiler alert,” Bucky says, pulling himself up to an upright position. “It’s not cancer.”

Steve sets the magazine down. “How’re you feeling?”

Bucky shrugs, tries to look casual even though he’s sore all over. “Mostly pissed off, actually. Who’d’ve thunk that an appendix could do that? I mean, I…” He trails off because Steve is _glaring_ at him over his nerdy glasses. “What?” he asks. “Did I… did I do something?”

“More like you forgot to do something.” Bucky swallows because he does not like this tone of voice. When Bucky doesn’t respond, Steve adds, “So were you gonna tell me you were in the hospital, or did I really have to find out about it from Twitter?”

Bucky’s stomach drops. “Steve, I…” Steve’s still glaring and Bucky is suddenly worried that the appendicitis won’t kill him, but Steve Rogers’s wrath will. “It’s not like it was anythin’ fatal. And your movie’s comin’ out so soon that I didn’t want to drag you away.”

“If Logan hadn’t called me while you weren’t paying attention I wouldn’t have even been here, Bucky.”

Bucky winces. “But nothing happened, Steve! See, I’m fine. Perfectly fine. Feel like I’m gonna, I dunno, take a hike or somethin’. Maybe go out dancin’.”

“You could’ve—“ Steve’s voice breaks; he looks down at his lap. “Jesus Buck, I was scared. Doesn’t matter if it’s serious or not, I want to _know_ , alright?”

Okay, maybe Steve Rogers’s wrath isn’t gonna kill him, but Steve Rogers looking that upset definitely will. “Steve,” Bucky says, voice almost not shaking. Steve looks up. “Sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“What if it had been?” Steve asks, voice shaking. “What if it was and I didn’t _know_ and you were alone? If something happened? I don’t want—“ He takes off his glasses and rubs at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. Bucky reaches out, but can only really grab at Steve’s knee. Still, Steve moves his other hand down to Bucky’s and squeezes tight.

“I honestly thought I was doin’ you a favor, not tellin’ you, Steve.”

“Yeah, well, you weren’t.”

“I guess I kinda get that now.” Steve looks up, eyes red. It’s the first time he’s seen Steve cry outside of an emotional movie or after one of his nightmares. “I’m not gonna make you cry again, okay Steve? Never again.”

Steve smiles through his tears. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

They look at each other for a moment, and then Bucky has to ruin the mood.

“I hate to ruin the mood,” he says. “But, uh, what happened to Asset? You didn’t leave him the apartment alone, did you? Because he’ll—“

“The dog is fine, Buck,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. “He’s with Natasha.”

Bucky’s stomach drops. “She’s going to eat him,” he says. “She hates that dog.”

Steve shrugs. “Well, maybe if you’d have given me a call, then I could’ve gotten Asset to Sam.”

“Low blow.”

Steve shrugs. “Hope you like bulldog barbecue.”

**…**

Bucky gets discharged the next day, under the condition that he lays low for a week. Steve gets another two days off of work, so they hole up in a hotel room together, Steve making Bucky eat his weight in soup and Bucky forcing Steve to watch _Twin Peaks_ , which Steve doesn’t get at all, but is Bucky’s favorite so he deals with it anyways.

Steve forgives him, too, which feels like a goddamn blessing. Because.

Because there’s something hidden away in the bottom of his sock drawer, a place where Steve never dares to venture, something that he picked up a few months back on a whim and that he’s thought about every single day since then.

He just needs to find the right time, is all.

 


	3. Age

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky Barnes’s Celebration for his Boyfriend’s Birthday Ruined: Rogers unable to spend even one evening with Bucky anymore. What’s keeping them together?!

**Bucky Barnes’s Celebration for his Boyfriend’s Birthday Ruined: Rogers unable to spend even one evening with Bucky anymore. What’s keeping them together?!**

**…**

Bucky is just finishing straightening his tie when Steve opens the front door. He pauses, his face tense. “Bucky, what the hell?”

Bucky grins. He walks into the balloon-ridden front room of the apartment. “Happy birthday, Stevie!”

Steve is frowning, looking at the balloons like they’re a particularly confusing trigonometry set. Then at Bucky, with much the same expression. “What’s with the suit?” he asks.

“I made us reservations for tonight. It’s a good place; far away from any fireworks.”

That, and Bucky hired a jazz trio to play in the private room that he booked. They’ll play all those oldies from the 40s that Steve likes to pretend that he doesn’t love and simultaneously drown out any 4th of July nonsense. It’s a win-win situation.

But Steve isn’t smiling, even when he enters the room, shutting the door behind him. Bucky walks over to him, standing in the kitchenette. Steve wipes a hand across his brow and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I’ll—“

“You okay?” Bucky interrupts. He puts a hand on the back of Steve’s neck.

Steve glances away. “Just a long day,” he says.

It’s always hard for him, the 4th of July. It may be his birthday, but it also means fireworks and stress and the social pressure to have a good time. “They sound like gunfire,” he told Bucky last year. “It always puts me on edge.” The previous year they had gone out to a cabin Bucky rented in northern California, but this time they’re stuck in Los Angeles because of work.

Bucky thinks, with a pang, of the perfect evening he had planned out, down to the bottle of Dom Perignon he has waiting for them at the restaurant just in case Steve decided to say yes.

“I can cancel the reservation.” He rubs circles into the soft hair at the back of Steve’s neck. “Go get you whatever kind of take-out you want.” Asset trots into the room, plops himself between Steve and Bucky, as he likes to do when he feels that they are giving each other too much attention and not enough to him.

Steve sighs. “I don’t mean to be a bother.”

Bucky’s pocket feels heavy. “God Steve, you’re never a bother. You go pick out whatever you want and I’ll get rid of the balloons.”

**…**

Fifteen minutes later, Bucky is standing in the garage, popping balloons in a suit, waiting for the Thai food they ordered to be ready to pick-up, thinking about how he was really, honestly ready to propose.

He just can’t do it on the couch. It’s not the same; Steve deserves more than that.

**…**

“I can’t believe that outta every show on the planet, you wanna spend your birthday watchin’ _Project Runway_.”

“Shut up,” Steve says as Heidi Klum announces some new challenge with exuberance Bucky can’t understand. “They’re very talented; it’s a measure of skill, unlike most reality shows.”

“It offends my manhood.”

“What manhood?” Bucky elbows Steve’s side, takes a big bite of pad thai. Steve grunts, then turns the volume down.

“C’mon buddy, I wasn’t that offended. Keep the volume up.”Steve sets his curry on the coffee table and leans over, presses a kiss onto Bucky’s temple. “I appreciate this. I know you probably had something stupid planned.”

Bucky fidgets. “Real stupid,” he mutters, staring down at his half-eaten pad thai.

Steve leans back. “Are you angry—“

“God no, Steve.” Bucky runs a hand through his hair. “It’s just me. Don’t worry about it. Turn the volume back—“

“Does this have anything to do with what’s been sitting in your sock drawer?”

Bucky swallows hard. “You mean my socks?” he asks, feigning ignorance. He puts his hand in his pocket, touches the smooth metal of the ring to make sure that it’s still there.

Steve chuckles. “Sure, Buck. Your socks.”

“I mean, they’re a bit disorganized, but that’s no reason for me to be upset.”

“Okay Buck, whatever you say.” He pauses and in that moment Bucky just feels all the love that he has for this amazing man surge up. “I’d just hate to—“

In one swift movement, Bucky takes the ring from his pocket and tosses it at Steve’s face. “What the—“

Steve manages to catch it. He stares at the gold band. Bucky sort of wants to die.

Steve holds the ring, presses it into the palm of his hand. “You looked guilty every time you opened that sock door,” he says. Bucky doesn’t look his way. “You started wearing _sandals_ , Bucky.”

“Well, if you’re gonna make a stink about it then you should just give it back.”Steve chuckles. “Now why would I do that?”

Bucky looks up, trying not to seem too hopeful. “Yeah?”

Steve closes his hand over the ring. He’s grinning, and Bucky can’t help but reflect a smile back at him. “But you are an Oscar-nominated actor. It would be nice if you could give me a proper proposal.”

“I have a speech.”

“You should give it.”

“I’m a bit nervous,” Bucky admits.

Steve grins. “The worst I can say is no.”

“Asshole.” He pauses. “I’m gonna need the ring back for it.” Steve at least complies with that, dropping the ring into Bucky’s outstretched hand. Bucky pushes the coffee table away, gets down on his knee, and looks up at Steve. “You said to me once that you were with me ’till the end of the line.” Steve is looking down at him, not giving him _anything_ to go off of, face somber. “And I wanted to ask you to sign a legal document that binds you to that.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Bucky—“

“I ain’t finished.” Okay, he was, but it feels different in the moment. “And I wanna let you know that I’m there, too, ‘till the end of the line. Bein’ with you, it’s changed my life. You’ve changed my life. And I wanna be with you ’til we’re old and wrinkly and I wanna be buried next to you so we can bother each other in whatever comes next. I love you, okay? I just, I really, really love you.”

Steve plucks the ring from Bucky’s fingers and puts it on. The gold band looks perfect on him, like it should’ve been there ages ago. “That must’ve been one of the seven worst proposals in all of history, Buck.” Bucky’s about to argue when Steve smiles again. “But it was perfect.”

“Then you’ll—“

“Was it ever even a question?”

**…**

“God, I can’t believe everyone thinks you’re so suave,” Steve says, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt as they clumsily move from the couch to the bedroom. He nips at Bucky’s neck and Bucky can’t help but _groan_. “God, you threw that ring at me,” he pants. “You’re the least suave guy I know.”

“Yeah, but I’m your _fiancée_.” Bucky pushes his hands into Steve’s hair and holds on tight. Something warm swells up in him, the word alone enough to make him wanna do terrible, awesome things. “God, the thought of you in a tux, at some altar waiting for me.” It goes straight to Bucky’s dick, him pressing in closer to Steve and nipping at his neck.

“Call the magazines, Bucky Barnes is a _dork._ ” The effect is kind of lost when Bucky licks a line up Steve’s throat and he can barely get the word out.

“Yeah, tell me what I am,” Bucky says, picking up where Steve’s fingers are fumbling and unbuttoning Steve’s shirt and pulling it off of him, revealing the glory of his pectorals.

“A dork.”“Uh-huh.”

Bucky bends down and grins before swirling his tongue around Steve’s nipple.

“Awful,” Steve breathes.

When Steve’s shirt is gone, Bucky moves a hand down to Steve’s grandpa khakis, where he palms Steve’s hardening cock. “And what else?”

“The worst,” he says through gritted teeth. He talks a big game, but Bucky can feel his dick twitch hopefully against his hand. “Take ‘em off Buck, don’t make me get these dry-cleaned.”

“Ew, Steve,” Bucky responds, but complies. He doesn’t want to play or tease tonight. He just wants Steve, all of Steve, every perfect inch of him. Bucky unbuckles Steve’s belt and pulls his pants down, leaving Steve in his navy boxer briefs. Meanwhile, Steve starts on Bucky’s top, pulling off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. When the two of them are down to only their underwear—socks have to go, it’s Bucky’s rule; there’s nothing worse than scratchy socks on during sex—they finally make it into the bedroom. They’re tangled up in each other, Bucky’s hands in Steve’s hair, and Steve’s hands everywhere, roaming up and down Bucky’s body and leaving tingling sensations in their wake.

They can’t seem to even make it to the bed. Bucky doesn’t want to be more than an inch away from his fiancée, his _fiancée_ , and Steve seems to feel similarly. They make out until Bucky’s aching, wanting more than just Steve’s tongue and hands. He sticks his finger into Steve’s waistband and strokes Steve’s hip. “Wanna?” he asks, because he’s always going to make sure.

“Yes,” Steve says, explicit because he knows Bucky needs it, and God, his fiancée is perfect. Then he grunts, “Bed. _Now_.”

Bucky grins against Steve’s lips. “Really, because we could—“

And that’s when Steve grabs Bucky from under the ass and picks him up, using all of his bodyguard strength to haul Bucky over to the bed and plop him down, Bucky laughing the whole time. “Wait just a sec,” Steve says, moving to the side of the room.

“Hurry up,” Bucky moans as Steve shuts the off lights and closes the door.

“Okay, I’m—“

And that’s when they hear a huge, rippling fart.

There’s a moment, where Bucky and Steve look at each other in the darkness. “Asset?” Bucky asks, tentative.

And he plods out from under the bed. He huffs twice, staring at Bucky on top of it before plopping on his tummy and looking up at Bucky with wide eyes. It takes Bucky about two seconds before he’s hysterically laughing, falling on his back because he can barely take it. A moment later Steve is on the bed, too, a solid weight on Bucky’s side, his deep laugh ringing in Bucky’s ears.

It’s perfect.

Especially when Asset farts again.

**…**

Steve is still flushed, the pretty redness receding from his chest and neck, but prominent on his cheekbones. Bucky presses a tired kiss to one of them before settling his head on Steve’s chest. He can hear Steve’s heartbeat, still a bit quick from the exertion. Bucky closes his eyes as Steve rests his hand in Bucky’s hair, and when Steve starts scratching a little Bucky can’t help but make a little, pleased sound.

“I should check on Asset,” Steve says, though he doesn’t try moving.

“Probably,” Bucky responds. They filled his water bowl when they put him in the living room, but he may need to poop or something. Steve is better at poop patrol; Bucky tends to get his picture taken when he’s picking up Asset’s shit and the temptation to throw it over at whoever has the camera is pretty great. “But,” Bucky starts, settling into Steve’s chest. “One more minute, okay?”

“The rest of my life,” Steve promises, and Bucky melts.

**…**

**Happiness for Barnes at Last: Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers are engaged! Get all the scoop about their forthcoming nuptials, the guest list, and an exclusive best man shocker!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all, folks! Thanks for sticking with me and these boys and, of course, Asset. It's been a lot of fun, and while I may revisit these boys in the future, their story is done for now.
> 
> And one last time: whtaft.tumblr.com. Follow if you dare.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this chapter, you probably like dogs. You know who else likes dogs? I do. I love dogs. And you know where I post a lot about dogs? On my Tumblr: whtaft.tumblr.com.


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